


please stand by (for my system reboot)

by hanktalkin



Series: UN PL UG GE D [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bus, Clubbing, Music, Nudity, Omnic Racism, Other, Robbery, Showers, Spicy Foods, Terrorism, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: The pressure of waiting in a city full of robots is getting to Zarya.





	please stand by (for my system reboot)

The heat of the shower was a familiar blessing. Zarya liked them hot, scalding the most desirable. They were a safe sort of pain, one that sated the cry for battle she heard constantly in her ears, but nothing that would give her permanent damage. She ate spicy food and snapped rubber bands against the inside of her wrist let the hot water fall between her shoulder blades; anything that would keep her in the reality of civilian life.

It was hard to believe it had been it'd only been three weeks.

The last time when she'd come from the front—again on an Numbani related adventure, ironically enough—her mind had been occupied, intent on the hunt. She wasn't a very good hunter, she'd proven in the end, but at least it had been close enough to being a soldier that she hadn't suffered. Now, in the intermittent days that had followed her arrival in the city, the hours of nothingness were getting to her.

She turned off the water, toweling off her hair and stepping though the hallway to her room. At first it had surprised her that the robot had showers in their home when they obviously didn't need any. Either the apartment had once been for human occupation and only been recently outfitted for omnics, or this city was so backwards it actually _expected_ omnics and humans to cohabitate. Both options churned a kernel of disgust in her stomach.

The towel came away pink. She scowled at it—there was no good hair dye in Numbani, only knock-off brands and natural colors that couldn't compare to stuff she used to buy. Even on the front lines, she's been able to requisition Hексус. _Damn this city and damn Volskaya and damn_ -

"Zaryanova. I was hoping to find you."

Zarya stiffened, the omnic who'd just passed through her thoughts now standing brazenly in front of her. She might have walked right into them if they hadn't spoken up.

"You are very bold to talk to me right now, robot," she said. "I am in a mood."

"Bold?" Their antenna twitched. "I'm not the one walking down the middle of the hallway without a towel on."

Zarya quickly looked down at herself, though she knew already they were right. In the army, she had gotten in the habit of going straight from showers to bunks. There was no privacy in her unit, not with people who she lived and died with every day. Yet another adjustment to civilian life she would have to make, and she felt a small thrill of embarrassment-

No, that was ridiculous. A naked human and a clothed human were all the same to an omnic. Maybe one was slightly easier to injure with knife or fist but that was all. She didn't care how Lnyx saw her.

And yet. And yetandyetandyetandyet...

"What did you want to speak with me about?" she asked firmly. Her hand rested on her hip, stance confident. Devoid of any shame she certainly didn't have.

"We should go out today. I have something I want to show you."

"What is it?" She furrowed her brow. "Does it pertain to our mission?"

"...In a way. Come on, get dressed. I'll explain on the bus."

Zarya opened her mouth to protest, but the omnic was already gone. With a shuffle, Zarya arrived in her room, somehow feeling more naked than she had before.

* * *

Despite their promise Lynx didn't explain as the two rode through the city. Instead, they responded to Zarya's probing by pointing out various local attractions, all on display as the bus seemed to meander forever through the glistening halls of Numbani.

She grunted conversationally in reply.

Zarya hadn't come here to see the sights. She had come here...well, she didn't really know why she'd come here actually.

When she'd shown up at Lynx’s apartment, through a hastily negotiated invitation, she had no idea what the robot could do for her and the ghosts she was running from. But she knew that this scrappy plan (half-formed in the dead of night) would _have_ to work. Simply because it was her only option left.

The idea of joining Overwatch had come so easily to them, it seemed ridiculous she hadn't it up on her own. But she hadn’t gotten this far by underestimating omnics, and calmly accepted that hindsight was twenty-twenty.

Lynx Seventeen had saved her. Perhaps it was unfair that she kept exactly how close the danger was from her ally, but she had told them from the beginning she didn't trust them. The burden she bore was heavier than anything Olivia Colomar had whispered in her ear, and showing all her cards wasn't worth the risk. But, even though she kept them in the dark, Lynx had still saved her and asked for nothing in return.

She hadn't expected them to. Maybe because Katya had been the one paying them, or because they never seemed to need _anything_ while they were traveling with Zarya, but the omnic existed in her mind as someone who did things simply because. _If they do not help me, I am lost._ And so they had.

She had based a decision of life or death on the good character of an omnic. What was the world coming to?

"This is our stop," Lynx told her.

She grunted again, following the omnic down while they paid for their bus fare. 

The duo arrived at a small lounge positioned at ground floor. Live music hummed cheerily from inside, and Zarya could just make out the soft curves of red furniture before the establishment sunk too far into the earth. It was crowned overhead by apartment buildings, the architecture giving the impression that the lounge was being slowly squished underground.

“Are we meeting someone here?” Zarya guessed. It was as out of the way as anything.

Lynx was already down the stairs, and Zarya wrinkled her nose before going after them.

The hostess was an omnic, who Lynx spoke politely to and Zarya just as politely ignored. They were seated close to the band, a mix of humans and omnics playing a gentle thumping tune. Not something Zarya cared for, but it was better than the careful drone of the TV that was always on in Lynx’s apartment.

As Zarya looked around, she noticed the multitude of omnics in the crowd as well, mingling among the humans who sat on overstuffed seats. They pretended this was normal, just like every other human in this godforsaken city. _It is like they’re all acting natural specifically to annoy me._ Zarya let herself feel some spiteful satisfaction at the thought, only pushing it away when she realized the lounge basically represented the demographics of her current party.

The music thronged, and a waiter came by and took her order. “Nkwobi,” she said shortly. “And a glass of water.”

Zarya tapped her manicured fingers on the table in beat with the music. Her mind already longed for something to occupy it with. These too-relaxed moments played tricks with her perception, making her feel like she was supposed to be doing something even though she knew she wasn’t. The meal would help at least. She could practically taste the spice baked into the cow’s leg.

“Why are we here Lynx?” she spoke.

“The lead bassist is a friend of mine,” Lynx said idly, indicating a human on stage. “She moved here from Cameroon with the intent of being a software engineer, and ended up falling in love with Numbani’s music scene.”

Zarya looked up at the bassist. She was beautiful sure, but didn’t look as intimidating as Zarya expected an Overwatch agent to be. “She’s who we’re meeting?”

“No,” Lynx shrugged. “I was simply making conversation.”

“Robot, if you do not-” Zarya began.

“Zaryanova,” Lynx cut her off. “You are drawing attention, which wouldn’t happen if you’d just enjoy yourself. Relax. And please stop eviscerating all of our napkins.”

Zarya looked down, just noticing the small mound of torn paper that had accumulated at her spot. She was more tense than she’d realized.

Gradually, she tried to follow Lynx’s advice. She did breathing exercises, releasing tension in her shoulders and improving her posture. The last thing she wanted was attention in this place, whether it be hostile or not. Over the next fifteen minutes, she actually began to listen to the music, trying to blend in with the dozens of other patrons.

Is this what omnics and humans did together? After all, it’s not like going out for lunch could satisfy all parties. She supposed she could ask Lynx, but conversation with the robot would only make her tense up again.

Her nkwobi came, and she reveled in the sting as she tore into it. The thrumming music seemed match the buzz in her lips and, god forbid, she actually started to enjoy herself.

By the time she’d finished her meal the band was taking their last bows, being met with a clatter of snaps and metal claps.

Zarya wiped her mouth with a napkin. “We’re not meeting anyone, are we?”

Lynx tilted their head. “No, we are not.”

“You said this pertained to the mission,” Zarya frowned.

Lynx turned to her. They hadn’t moved at all during the performance besides the faint twitch in their antenna to show they were listening. Now they directed every bit of their body language at the Russian, telling her, “you are the mission.”

She knitted her brow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that my current goal is to get you to join Overwatch. I have every motive to keep you healthy and occupied, and that includes getting out of the apartment every now and again. You were going absolutely crazy cooped up in there.”

Zarya opened her mouth, but couldn’t deny that in good conscience. Numbani intimidated her. It was constant reminder how far away from home she was.

“To stay alive you need to live a little,” Lynx continued. “That includes leaving your home for things besides hair products.”

“It is not my home,” Zarya barked to cover up sharp embarrassment in her chest.

Lynx shrugged. “Even so. But like I said, the better condition you’re in the better our chances are with Overwatch. Plus, if you kept doing all those push-ups, you would have put a hole right through my floor.”

Zarya was pretty sure that last one was a joke, but Lynx had made their point. She sighed, rubbing he temples with her freshly cleaned hands.

“So this whole thing was to get me to have fun?” she asked, resigned.

“That depends. _Did_ you have fun?”

Zarya thought. “I suppose.”

“Then yes. That was the whole thing.”

* * *

Zarya’s foot had barely touched the sidewalk outside the lounge when the sound of police sirens tore through the streets. She looked up, watching cars fly by and painting the above apartments red and blue.

She might have thought nothing of it—there’s always crime in a city— except for the fact that a thousand glass windows seemed to shatter at once.

Zarya ducked, but noise wasn’t from above them. It came from the direction the police were headed, near the downtown.

“What was that?” she said, ears still ringing from the noise.

“Trouble,” Lynx pointed out astutely.

“Right,” Zarya said, reaching for her handheld. “I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

“Don’t bother,” Lynx interrupted. “I’ve already hacked into several police communication lines.”

“Of course you have,” Zarya sighed.

“Your exasperation is noted, but superfluous. Come on, they’re heading toward the museum.”

They didn’t call a cab, the streets already packing up as the cycle of destruction spiraled outwards. Zarya and Lynx ran along crowded sidewalks, only guided by Lynx’s sense of direction. Or maybe an internal GPS. Zarya didn’t want to guess.

They reached the scene of the crime as police drew yellow tape around the Numbani Heritage Museum, its glass dome had been entirely shot out, closing the mystery of that god awful noise. Lynx had trouble pushing through the swarms of people, their only saving grace being the large Russian at their side. She shoved the way to the front, arriving directing in front of an officer.

“What has happened?” she asked immediately.

“The museum was robbed,” the officer explained for what was probably the hundredth time. “Now please, stay back. We need to make sure Doomfist doesn’t have any more people in there.”

“Doomfist?” Zarya asked, the name feeling vaguely familiar on her tongue.

“A former member of Talon,” Lynx said, the robot still at her elbow. “His glove was located inside museum. I told you that while we were on the bus.”

“Yes,” Zarya said. “But I was not listening.”

Motor’s whirred inside Lynx in an expression that was probably annoyance.

“Come on,” they told Zarya. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

“But-” She wanted to go _in_. To _fight_. To stop sitting around here waiting and go to battle for once-

“ _Zaryanova_.” Lynx’s voice was strong, more than she had ever heard from them. “He’s gone. There are reports of him boarding a helicopter almost a half an hour ago.”

The wave of passion that had consumed Zarya receded, leaving her just as agitated and hopeless as before. Her particle cannon was gone, far out of reach in deep storage, but she still felt the need to do _something_. Like the chance she’d been waiting for three weeks had just slipped through her fingers.

Softly, Lynx’s hand pressed against her shoulder. “He’s gone,” they repeated, “but it’s not over. If you come with me, we can still be of help.”

There was something else unsaid at the end of there. A _trust me_. A sentence that Zarya would reject if it were said aloud, but followed the omnic anyway.

They wanted her to find a quiet spot. She did; a narrow but clean alleyway where Zarya only had to stand at the end of to shoo nosey tourists away. Even as she cleared the hidey-hole as asked, she saw Lynx whipping out several devices from their jumpsuit.

She wondered if they ever washed that. They probably didn’t need to without any sweat glands, but still. It was the principle.

Lynx got to work. She didn’t know what they were doing and didn’t pretend to guess. Whatever it was it took most of the hour, constant tapping and clicking as the omnic sat on the ground in their circle of electronics.

Finally, they stood, approaching their temporary bouncer. “Okay. I’ve done about all I can.”

“Which was?” Zarya raised her eyebrow.

Lynx whirred, and then began to list. “First, I compiled all I could on the helicopter from fifty-seven different security cameras and twenty-three personal use cameras. I ran it through several manufacturers, found the most likely make and model, and forwarded my findings to the police. I checked all known sources to if the gauntlet could be tracked in any way, but turned up nothing. And, finally, I redirected all traffic away from the museum. Numbani infrastructure response time is _terrible_.”

“You did all that?” Zarya asked. “Impossible. It’s only been an hour.”

“I’m very good at what I do.”

“Hm,” was all Zarya allowed. “Fine then. But then, if you did all of this, why?”

“Besides the fact that this is my home and it helps people in need?”

“Yes,” she pressed.

Lynx’s antennae twitched. “Alright, if it keeps your opinion of omnics unchallenged, my motives weren’t entirely altruistic. I do this often, helping out where the bureaucracy of a city can’t get to the ones who need it most. I leave a calling card. It helps with my reputation.”

“So you are a…super hero of sorts?” Zarya mulled over the mental image. It fit. The omnic _did_ tend to wear PJs while out and about.

Lynx put their hands on their hips. “I was going to say vigilante, but if that suits you.”

It did. And, despite yet another failure their duo had achieved, Zarya felt her burden lightened. It must have been all that omnic music rotting her brain.

“So…now what?” she asked them.

“We wait. Again. But I believe this time, we’ll get a much faster reply.”

* * *

It took less than a week. Zarya was coming from her room, planning to do a few push-ups in the living room where there was at least some space, and walked into a meeting already in progress.

“Zaryanova,” Lynx said from their spot on the couch. “Glad you’re here. Might I introduce Dr. Zhou, here on behalf of Overwatch.”

Zarya froze. The Overwatch agent was small and round, with a large pair of glasses that took up half her face. She rose to greet Zarya, a smile already glowing on her face.

“A pleasure to meet you Ms. Zaryanova!” she said as she shook Zarya’s hand. “But please, if we’re going to be working together, you can call me Mei.”

Zarya remembered herself halfway through the shake, and closed down hard. Maybe she was a bit too firm, because Mei’s adorable face scrunched with momentary discomfort. Zarya let go quickly.

“That is…so good to hear,” Zarya said, trying to remember what it was like to talk to people besides Lynx. “So we…have been officially accepted then?”

“Indeed we have,” Lynx said, standing. They reached down and cleaned Mei’s empty teacup. “Overwatch was impressed with our efforts during the Doomfist attack.”

 _Your efforts_ , Zarya thought, but kept it to herself.

Mei adjusted her glasses before holding her hands in front of her. “Of course, we had been in contact with Lynx Seventeen before, but we were having trouble negotiating your inclusion.” She rocked on the balls of her feet. “Personally, I would have taken you, but some questioned your former ties with Katya Volskaya.”

Zarya’s chest tightened. “Katya and I are no longer friends.” If Sombra’s revelation hadn’t severed their connections, then Katya’s treatment of her after the fact had.

“I know that,” Mei said, and her face was genuinely sympathetic. Despite herself, Zarya was already beginning to trust Dr. Zhou. “But others in the leadership had their doubts. However, thanks to your work during the attack, we now collectively believe you two are too valuable to lose.”

Zarya glanced over at Lynx. All this time they had been saying Overwatch had been difficult to contact, when in reality it had been _Zarya_ who was the wrench in the gears. The robot had lied to her. Unsurprising but…to spare her feelings?

Mei was still waiting for a response.

“Thank you,” Zarya said, then cleared her throat. “For deciding we are worth the risk.”

Mei laughed, and Lynx passed by with teacup in hand. Things were going to be…odd, to say the least.

**Author's Note:**

> Zarya, loudly, while standing on a chair: THIS IS SOME PRETTY FORCED DIVERSITY, AM I RIGHT FELLAS?


End file.
